Seven
by IsabellaBrandybuck
Summary: A rather extreme AU combining both Sleepy Hollow and the myth of the Blair Witch Project. Movie verse for both of course. Ichabod, Katrina, and Young Masbath have only been in New York for a couple of months, when they are summoned to the township of Blair, Maryland to investigate a series of graphic murders. (The title is strange I know but it will make more sense later on...)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

_Blair, Maryland_  
_1785_

_The old woman struggled as strong hands grasped her shoulders, dragging her upon a rickety old wooden box. She stood watching as the villagers gathered in a mob below, shouting obscentities and throwing rocks whenever they could find one._

_"Witch! Filthy Witch!" They screamed, and she held her head high, refusing to allow the insults to penetrate._

_"Elli Kedwards," the voice of the local magistrate boomed over the roar of the crowds. "You have been charged with bleeding seven children. What have you to say for yourself?"_

_Elli merely stared at him through her dark brown eyes, setting her jaw tightly. What she had done, they would never understand._

_"CONFESS!" Someone shouted, and she watched as a row of children made their way up to the front of the crowd, tossing more rocks. She flinched as one struck her cheek, her chest, the calf of her leg. She would not confess to being a witch, never._

_"If you have nothing to say, then we have no choice but to banish you from this town forever," the magistrate snarled, and before she knew what was happening, they tossed her into a wheel barrell. Her eyes were covered with a black bandanna, so she could see nothing._

_"Kill the witch!" the crowd hollered in unison as they followed the wheel barrell away from the town and towards the woods. "Kill her!"_

_The ride seemed to take forever; the wheel barrell was bumping and creaking over the rocks and uneven dirt ground; Elli felt sweat pouring down her forehead and cheeks. She was suddenly relieved from the contraption, falling to her knees on wet snow. It was so cold; one of the coldest winters Blair village ever experienced, and she could feel ice creeping upon her weathered neck._

_The townspeople did not remove the bandanna as they strung her tight to an enormous tree, taking the pleasure of kicking her in the stomach while they worked. "You had your chance, witch," an unidentified man hissed into her ear. "If you believe so much in natural remedies, let us see how nature responds to you."_

_Then they left her where she stood, until the wood returned to silence. She struggled against the ropes, hissing in pain as it dug into her skin, and she felt warm blood trickling down her wrists. The darkness of the bandanna was overwhelming; she needed to remove it, but there was no possible way of doing so._

_"Curse you!" she screamed hoarsely, even though she knew it would do no good. "Curse all of you! Every one of your children will pay for this!"_

_She let out a blood curtling scream of agony, which echoed amongst the trees…_

Chapter 1  
New York City, December 1799

The coblestone streets were empty and silent; and a light mixture of snow and rain began to fall. Jonathan Masbath II shot up in bed with a gasp of surprise, clutching his quilt to his chest. He glanced around his small bedroom wildly, the sound of the old woman's scream still ringing in his ears. Surely he had been dreaming again, for not a sound could be heard in the three story flat.

Once his heart managed to slow to a normal rate, the ten year old ran his hand over his head of short, somewhat spiked black hair. Judging from the pitch black of the sky, it was clearly very late…more than likely past midnight. Groaning inwardly, Young Masbath pulled the blankets down, and slid to the floor, tiptoeing over to his desk. A half-used candle sat waiting in its container, a box of thin matches laying beside it.

He'd been in New York City for three full months now, many thanks to the generosity of Constable Ichabod Crane and his new wife, the former Katrina Van Tassell. He struck a match and lit the candle, holding the container up so the room engulfed in a gentle orange glow.

Quitely as he could, Young Masbath slipped out of his bedroom door, walking down the narrow hall. The bedroom of his master and mistress was not far from his own, and he smiled faintly when he heard the Constable snoring gently. He peeked in to check on them, and found Ichabod and Katrina sound asleep in each others' arms. Neither were at all phased by the sudden appearance of candlelight, which was a great relief.

Adjusting to city life as opposed to life in Sleepy Hollow had been a bit of a challenge for the boy. He worked as Ichabod's apprentice, following him on patrol throughout the city.

When the time came to tell the story of what happened to the old tarrytown to the high magistrate and the Burgomaster, they practically laughed Ichabod right out of the building. Young Masbath felt his anger bubble as he remembered their amused sneers, and was startled his master had been allowed to remain in his position. However, it was certainly by his and Katrina's eye witness accounts that kept his superiors from doing so. "No doubt I am hanging by a thread, still, Ichabod told them later.

While they were not involved with the constabulary, Ichabod spent a great deal of time in his third floor laboratory. Young Masbath helped clean up chemical explosions, fascinated by the sounds and smells they produced. Of course, the racket they made upstairs on certain days caused Katrina to come running, half-relieved/half-aggravated when she would discover them to be perfectly fine. He smirked to himself when he remembered an incident that occurred only that past weekend:

_BOOM! When the haze cleared, Young Masbath stood staring at a large, gaping hole where the center of the wooden table once was. He gulped, and after hesitating a moment, turned to face Ichabod. "SIR!" he cried, and immediately began to put out the small fire, which struck upon the old lab coat his master wore, and Ichabod thanked him afterwards._

_"Er…was that supposed to happen?" Young Masbath asked, frowning at the dark, crisp spot on the white , and hoped he wasn't hurt._

_Ichabod raised his eyes, as though the boy would even dare suggest such a ridiculous thing. "Of course," he replied, clearing his throat, and began to clean up what he could._

_Katrina's frantic footsteps could be heard a moment later, and when they allowed her in, she gasped at the sight. "What happened?!" she exclaimed, and Ichabod smiled softly at her, removing his goggles._

_"My shirt caught fire," he explained simply and with such a calm tone, Young Masbath could no longer contain his giggles._

Young Masbath began to head downstairs with the intention of going to the kitchen, and jumped when one of the old steps creaked under his feet. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping the noise hadn't woken his master or mistress; he would be in deep trouble for being awake this late. Again. As it were, he'd already gotten in trouble with the Constable earlier that week, for sneaking out late to spend time with a companion or two.

"Young Masbath has taken to quite wild fancies since we have brought him here," the boy remembered overhearing husband and wife's discussion over the preparation of dinner. "I do not know what to do with him."

Young Masbath gave a tiny sigh as he reached the parlor at last, and pushed the door open to the kitchen. He set the candle onto the long table, and filled an old tin mug with fresh water from a barrell they stored in the house.

He gazed at the dead fireplace while he sat, wondering if he should mention this dream to Ichabod. He had dreams of this old woman before, ever since he arrived in New York… and each became more tragic than the next. Was she significant in some way? He shuddered lightly, taking another sip of water. Just as he was about to stand up and put the tin mug away, he turned around and saw a figure standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Oi!" Young Masbath cried in alarm, nearly falling backwards. He steadied himself against the table top, and after he held up his candle, he realized Ichabod was watching him. "Sir, I'm sorry…you startled me!" he took a deep breath, and the middle-aged Constable's lips set into a thin line.

"Do you want to tell me why you are awake at this hour?" he asked, and Young Masbath hung his head. "If you're about to sneak out tonight, I'm insisting you think twice about it."

"I wasn't, sir, and I'm sorry," he apologized again. "I…I thought I heard someone screaming, but turns out it was just a nightmare… and then I was thirsty." he wet his lips, and Ichabod folded his arms, a weary expression on his face. "I did not think I would disturb you."

"Lad, how many times must I tell you not to wander around after dark?" he asked. "Especially since you know we must be up at dawn for patrol."

Young Masbath gave a sudden yawn, rubbing his eyes. "I know, sir," he replied. "it won't happen again, I promise."

Ichabod nodded in satisfaction, and came to put a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Back to bed," he ordered, and Young Masbath led the way, using the candle to shed light on their steps. Katrina was waiting for them in the hall, and when she inquired what had happened, Young Masbath insisted he was all right.

"He had a nightmare, apparently," Ichabod explained, and she frowned deeply.

"Dear boy, do you wish to talk of it?" she asked, and Young Masbath gulped.

"No," he insisted. "I'll be fine." he gave a nod of his head, and after bidding them good night, went back into his bedroom. Ichabod and Katrina stared at each other once the boy's door closed, and Katrina took his arm.

"You two should discuss this in the morning," she suggested, and Ichabod yawned loudly, excusing himself. "Perhaps his disturbed sleep has been the cause of his recent behavior."

Ichabod fiddled with the black stone ring on his finger, and cleared his throat. "Perhaps," he agreed. "All right, my dear…let us retire." he kissed her forehead, and Katrina took his hand, pulling him back into their room.

Young Masbath continued to lay awake for quite some time, gazing at the snow as it continued to fall. Whatever I do, I never wish to disappoint you, sir, he thought, closing his eyes. I've only ever wanted to make you proud of me.

Before he knew it, he was sound asleep.

When dawn crept over the city, Ichabod Crane was wide awake, dressing for the day. Katrina continued to lay in bed, watching as her husband slipped into his uniform, and their eyes caught when he sat to tug on his boots.

"Good morning, love," he announced, and she smiled, stretching her arms over her head.

"Good morning." she sat up, closing her eyes as he came to place a kiss on her lips. "However do you manage to wake at this hour every day?" she asked, and he chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It is merely a habit, Katrina," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

She nodded. "Too well," she laughed, and climbed to the floor herself. "The winter months are always so difficult when it comes to rising from bed."

He helped her dress, announcing he would wake the boy while she prepared breakfast downstairs.

"Do not forget to speak to him today, Ichabod," Katrina warned as she descended the steps, and Ichabod's lips twitched in nervousness. When he first arrived in Sleepy Hollow, he never intended to come back with more than his book full of notes from the investigations. Yet circumstances changed considerably, and good fortune presented him with a beautiful wife and a young, sharp-witted boy as his apprentice.

"Though sometimes Young Masbath looks to me as a father figure I fear," he said to himself as he went to the child's room. "I'm afraid I've not the courage nor experience to heed him."

He knocked a couple of times, calling, "Young Masbath! Time to rise, my boy."

Young Masbath cringed at his master's voice from where he lay amongst the covers, squeezing the pillow tightly to his cheek. Morning always came much too quickly.

When the boy didn't answer, Ichabod sighed with frustration, and opened the door himself. "We have no time to dawdle, lad," he warned, and Young Masbath's eyes snapped open, finding his master already dressed and freshened for the day.

"Sir, must I?" Young Masbath whined, and Ichabod chuckled.

"There are consequences of being up past midnight," he replied, and Young Masbath struggled to sit, rubbing his eyes. "Katrina is preparing our breakfast downstairs, so I'll expect you washed and dressed within the next ten minutes. Am I understood?"

Young Masbath nodded, yawning, and Ichabod smiled at him faintly before leaving the room again. The ten year old was up and dressed in the amount of time given, and found his master working through a bowl of freshly brewed porridge when he arrived.

"Good morning, lad," Katrina greeted, as Young Masbath sat down at the table, helping himself to a piece of fruit from a bowl placed in the center.

"Good morning," he replied, smiling as she came to kiss him.

"There is a blanket of snow on the ground today, so I expect the both of you to take extra care," Katrina warned, and Young Masbath's heart leapt. He adored snow; Sleepy Hollow rarely saw a flake.

"We will," he promised, and Ichabod cleared his throat, checking his pocket watch.

"Speaking of which," he began, "we'd best be off."

Young Masbath took another bite of an apple, and hopped up at once, going to fetch his coat and his master's from the hook in the main hallway. "Scarves and gloves!" Katrina called from the kitchen, and both Ichabod and Young Masbath smirked at each other.

"Of course, Katrina," Ichabod replied, and once they were bundled tight, he pulled open the main door. Young Masbath immediately leapt into the snow, prancing around and watching as his feet made prints in it. He lifted his head to the sky and stuck out his small tongue, hoping to catch a flake or two.

"Coming, lad?" Ichabod asked, and Young Masbath lowered his head, nodding, and dashed after his master. They walked in silence for the most part, taking in the sounds and sights of the city at this time of the day. Ichabod thought of Katrina's suggestion the night before; 'Talk to him about it', and frowned as he saw the boy glancing at him rather awkwardly.

"Young Masbath, if there is something you wish to share with me, I would encourage you to do so," he insisted at last, and the boy paused in step, his eyes raising.

"Y-yes, Sir. I know. I just..." Young Masbath's steps faultered at this, images flashing behind his eyes when he closed them. Agonizing screams. Rocks. The smell of fresh blood, heavy over the lighter, earthy scent of the woods. It was all so real. Without thinking, the boy found himself stepping closer to his master with a soft whimper, raking trembling fingers through his hair.

Ichabod frowned and placed a comforting hand on Young Masbath's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "If it makes you feel better, I had terrible nightmares in Sleepy Hollow. But I felt...after talking about them...they became less frequent." he paused, and pulled the boy aside, so they would not be run over by a carriage. Young Masbath stumbled, his feet skidding over the already slippery stones that made up the road. He squeaked in alarm as the carriage rumbled past, narrowly missing the toes of his boots.

"S-Sorry, Sir," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the scarf wound tightly around his throat. He looked up at Ichabod, his dark eyes wide and earnest. Talk about the dreams? But how could he? That would be like reliving them. The boy swallowed hard and found himself unable to speak for a moment.

"I... they... Sir, they were hurting her!" Like a dam breaking, Young Masbath's works came suddenly, and so fast they ran together. "They tied her to a tree and threw rocks at her and called her a witch! She looked so sad, but then they left her and she got angry and... and she was screaming!" He whimpered, clamping his hands over his ears. "She keeps screaming..."

Ichabod's eyes widened, and he straightened up, unsure of how to answer. The word 'witch' was one he was slowly getting used to; the Lady Van Tassell was the witch of the Western Wood in Sleepy Hollow. Could the boy be thinking of her...and her fate in hell with the Headless horseman? He cleared his throat and was about to respond, when one of his co-workers called his name from the other side of the street.

Ichabod rolled his eyes, pulling out his pocketwatch; the man's name was Edward Darlington; he often chided Ichabod for his 'ridiculous schemes'. "Don't be ridiculous, Darlington...We have ten minutes," he replied, and Darlington snorted.

Young Masbath shrank away from the imposing man and his cruel eyes. He was one of Ichabod's coworkers, and one the lad did not like much at all. Not that he liked any of them terribly, but some were certainly less disagreeable than others. Not Darlington, though. He glared at the man and, feeling minutely braver, stepped closer still to his master defensively.

"We weren't going to be late!" He piped up from Ichabod's side, his cheeks bright pink over the wolly scarf. "My master is always on time! Except... except when he's not," he added quickly, recalling the few times that he and Ichabod had, in fact, been late for patrol. Usually at the fault of the lad himself.

He swallowed and shrank again, kicking at the snow. Ichabod cringed a little, and Darlington gave the boy a nasty look. "Not sure what you're teaching that boy, Crane, but he should know better than to speak to his elders in that tone. I'll see you at work." he knocked Ichabod roughly in the shoulder, storming off towards their building. Ichabod rubbed at the sore spot for a moment, his face growing very warm. It would not be truly terrible if he were to give up his work at the Constabulary altogether, though he refused to live off of Katrina's fortune.

He hugged Young Masbath, reassuring the boy it would be all right, and urged him onwards. "We'll have to talk about this more later tonight, lad. I'm sorry," he apologized, just as they stepped inside. The usual sounds of scraping metal and human screams of agony and wailing filled the air; Ichabod was used to it by now, but it disturbed the boy greatly.

"D-Do not apologize, Sir." Young Masbath shuddered the moment they entered the Constabulary, cringing when the horrible sounds reached his ears. No matter how many times he came in here with his master, it still made him fidget with unease. He kept his eyes on the ground for the most part, unless Ichabod asked him to look at something specifically. It was horrible. Dreadful. He had no idea how Ichabod could stand his job, let alone love it as much as he did.

They reported to the High Constable first, who was a man with the apperance of a vampire: sharp, pointed features and black eyes. He set them on patrol at certain places around the city; it was rare they came across anything exciting. "Crane, I'll have another assignment for you after Christmas at least...once details are oriented," he began, and Ichabod raised an eyebrow; he'd been hoping for a bit of a break after his experience in Sleepy Hollow. Christmas was just two weeks away, if that.

"A...I see," he stuttered, and cleared his throat, which had been feeling slightly raw over the past few days due to the extreme cold.

"But...!" Young Masbath looked from the High Constable to Ichabod, who stood so tall in front of this horrible man. They had only been back in New York for three months, and his master had barely time to breathe between patrols. He knew that Katrina and Ichabod wished to spend more time together, alone. And how could they do that if Ichabod had to leave again?

The High Constable looked down at Young Masbath, one eyebrow arched in question. "The boy has something to say?" He inquired in his startlingly deep voice. The boy swallowed his annoyance and clamped his lips together, shaking his head silently. He wouldn't put up a fuss twice in the span of a quarter hour. Especially not in front of Ichabod's superior.

Ichabod narrowed his eyes in warning, and glanced at the High Constable. "Of course I will accept, sir," he replied, and the High Constable gave a nod.

"As your investigations in Sleepy Hollow did not prove to be entirely useful, we have decided to give you another chance. A final chance, mind." he scowled. "To prove just how capable you are in this position."

Ichabod grimaced...he knew this was coming, and wished he could retort and say, "FINE, then. It's not worth the trouble anyway." but the words wouldnt come, and he decided to merely nod his agreement, before taking his post for the day, leading Young Masbath along.

"Why that horrible... puckered... windbag!" Young Masbath was running alongside Ichabod to match his master's long strides, his face scrunched up in anger. "I have half a mind to... to... Sir! Slow down!" Panting, the dark-haired boy fought to catch up with Ichabod, feeling winded already. Such things came from little sleep, he knew, and prepared himself for the similar lecture he was sure he was about to recieve. It wasn't often, after all, that he couldn't keep up with his master.

Ichabod eventually stopped at the dock of the great river that ran before the Constabulary, and took a deep breath. He was so tired; so exhausted...how could he possibly even think about traveling again? Katrina would be devastated if she had to leave New York, just when things were finally beginning to settle with their new life.

"Young Masbath..." he began, but frowned when he could not think of how to finish the sentence. Instead, he turned to face the river again, wishing he could carry the cardinal disk in his coat pocket. The boy settled into his normal position; just behind and to the left of Ichabod. He folded his arms and looked down into the ugly swirling water, his face still burning with indignation for his master, and thorough dislike for the entirety of the Constabulary. He did not want to leave New York! He had friends here. He found himself loving the city more and more each day, and detested the thought of leaving the hustle and bustle for anything. His mistress loved it too, he knew. She was blossoming, falling naturally into the role of Ichabod's wife and mistress of their home.

"Sir?" The boy spoke softly, barely audible over the gurgle of the river. "Must we go?"

"I am determined to prove them wrong once and for all," Ichabod spoke in a quiet, but serious voice. "I've worked too hard to give up now." he turned, and provided Young Masbath with a rare, soft smile. "Even if we do go wherever they send us, it will not be forever. Besides..." he cocked his head to one side. "I do think you need a bit of a rest from all of your nightly escipades, mmm?" Ichabod remembered the last incident, when Young Masbath had come home soaking wet, after attempting to help his friends sail a handmade raft down the river.

Young Masbath couldn't contain the sheepish grin at that, and he kicked a stone into the river with an almost shy air. "Maybe so, Sir. Though I don't want to leave my friends." He turned sad eyes up to his master, his bottom lip protruding slightly. It made him look younger than his ten years, especially with the wind making his pale cheeks rosey. "I hope it won't take us long."

They continued to wander aimlessly down the cobblestoned street, keeping their eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. Despite the difficulties that Young Masbath was sure lay ahead, he could not help but think, what a fine day this was! He shivered slightly when the wind picked up, and several snowflakes found their way down the back of his jacket. He sniffled softly, rubbing the back of his neck with one gloved hand. "I like snow and all, but I never realized standing around in it was so... cold!"

Ichabod chuckled, as they began to stroll along again, using movement to keep warm. "I do believe I could use one of Katrina's home made gingerbreads right about now...with a warm cup of tea." he shivered as snow began to fall a bit more heavily, though it was truly a beautiful sight. Especially when it mixed with the darkness of the river water, practically clouding everything in sight. Ichabod waited until Young Masbath was about a foot ahead of him, and reached down to roll a snowball. He tossed it at the boy's shoulder with a soft THUD, waiting for the reaction.

It was a slow reaction, his senses dulled from cold, emotions, and lack of sleep. He blinked and turned around slowly, the snow falling from his shoulder in soft clumps. He stared at Ichabod for a long minute, then grinned and bent to retrieve his own handful of snow. "I shall make you pay for that one, Sir," he called, packing the snow into a firm ball before throwing it at his dark master. It hit the center of the man's chest, exploding in a cloud of powder. "Ha ha! Take that!" And with that, he was off running, laughing over his shoulder.

Ichabod chased after his apprentice, and the two of them were caught in a miniature snowball fight, laughing and letting out grunts of surprise at each attack. They only stopped when they saw a man holding a gun at another, threatening to "finish him" if he did not supply what he wanted. Ichabod ordered Young Masbath to stop at once, and immediately fetched his own gun, starting for the incident. This was the first they'd experienced yet; clearly not everyone was inside due to the weather.

"Go over there, lad," Ichabod whispered, pulling out his gun, and Young Masbath hurried to hide behind one of the building walls, watching as his master approached the fighting men, ordering them both to stop at once and put their arms in the air. The men stared at him with surprise, and Young Masbath snuck out from his post, snatching the fallen gun from the one villain, and now both were aiming their weapons in warning.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" the chubby man begged, and Ichabod did not immediately lower his gun.

"Yet you were more than happy to partake in doing so to this gentleman," he explained, pointing to the thin, scrawny fellow.

"He stole something from me shop, and I was chasin' him, sir," the stout man replied, and Ichabod whistled, encouraging Young Masbath to come around and stand beside him.

"Either way, you were assaulting this man with a murderous weapon," Ichabod replied. "What you should have done is brough him directly to us. Now both of you are going to have to come with me to the station. Young Masbath? Take these, and hook that one while I take care of him."

Once both men were shackled and harmless, they were brought to the constabulary, and the weapons were presented to the Burgomeister. With a grunt of "good work," the Burgomeister sent both Ichabod and Young Masbath to their posts.

When the shift ended around 5:30 that evening, both were anxious to return to the warmth of the Crane home. "You did very well today, Young Masbath," Ichabod spoke after they walked in silence for quite a while, and the boy stared at him. "I am very proud of you."

Young Masbath blushed, grateful for any compliment his master could find the courage to give. When they arrived home, Katrina ordered them both in front of the fireplace at once, rubbing Ichabod's hands and cheeks when she first felt them. "Goodness, you are both frozen!" she exclaimed, and he kissed her tenderly, allowing Young Masbath to tell the story of the gunmen, which had her quite fearful.

"Ichabod, he is much too young to be doing this," she cried, and Young Masbath smiled.

"Actually, I like it," he insisted. "It's quite similar to playing guns and robbers, only…"

Ichabod laughed. "It is with true guns and true robbers, right?" he ruffled the boy's hair, and Young Masbath stuck out his tongue.

"Yes," he replied, and Katrina smiled again.

"Well, I have something exciting to tell you both over supper," she announced, "but first I insist you rest by the fire. The last thing I want to do is have the two of you catch cold before the winter has truly set in!"

Ichabod winked at Young Masbath, and both sat on their separate chairs.

When dinner was ready, Ichabod proceeded to inquire what his wife seemed so giddy about, and Young Masbath raised his eyes when she looked in his direciton.

"Actually, the news pertains more to Mouse here," she began, using Young Masbath's nickname. She began calling him that ever since he started sneaking out at night, and it just seemed to stick.

"What did I do?" he asked softly, and Ichabod encouraged her to go on.

"Well, it seems the pastor from our church stopped by, and asked if we would be interested in enrolling you with the choir for the Christmas holiday."

Silence filled the air, and Young Masbath leaned back in his chair, suddenly having lost his appetite. "Why?" he exclaimed, and Katrina chuckled.

"They apparently do this every year, lad, and since you are a new addition to the church, he wished to have you join."

Young Masbath looked at Ichabod, who gave a small shrug, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I…" he began slowly, and Katrina squeezed his hand.

"I think it would be a good activity for you," she continued, "you would be able to meet other boys your age, and you will be able to…"

"Stay out of trouble," Ichabod finished, and she frowned at him. "yes, Katrina, I do believe that will be a good idea for you, Young Masbath."

"But sir, you don't even go to church," Young Masbath said softly, and Katrina looked at her husband, who narrowed his eyes. "I thought I was here to help you!"

"I understand that, lad, but I want you to be involved with something less mischievous in your life right now. I insist you begin to associate with children who are a bit more dignified in their manners. This city is too dangerous for you to be running through it in the dark of night. Next thing I know we'll be bailing you out of prison for some crime or other!" the gunman appeared in his mind, and Ichabod shuddered.

Young Masbath looked from one adult to the other, feeling somewhat defeated. "All right, sir," he sighed heavily. "I suppose it could not hurt to try. But I do like my friends, and I promise I wont ever let them talk me into doing anything like that," he added, and Ichabod nodded with approval, smiling again at Katrina, who had an expression of amusement on her face.

"Good," Katrina replied kindly. "I'll bring you to the church tomorrow, so you may speak with the Pastor Richards. Besides, I have heard you play the piano, and you are quite musically talented," she said, and Young Masbath played with his vegetables, wishing he could disappear through a hole in the floor.

"Yes ma'am," he muttered under his breath, and Ichabod raised an eyebrow.

"We are only looking out for your well being, Young Masbath," he insisted, and the boy looked at him, asking if he could be excused.

"Yes you may," Katrina replied, and Young Masbath got up from the table, scurrying from the kitchen as fast as he could. Ichabod watched as he disappeared into the living room, and turned back to his wife.

"Ichabod, if he does not wish to change, we will not be able to make him," she warned, and he nodded.

"I know that, my love," he said. "but it is all an experience. As you said, we should not pass on any chance to try something new."

Katrina beamed. "Yes," she agreed. "I did in deed say that." she blushed, but the kitchen was too dimly lit for Ichabod to notice.

"Would you…" he paused, and she cocked her head to one side.

"Would I what, darling?" she asked, and Ichabod massaged his forehead.

"Would you like to take a chance for a new adventure as well?" he watched her expression, and hated having to bring the idea of a new assignment up already.

"Always, my Ichabod," she laughed lightly. "what have you in mind?"

"My dear, I am so sorry to have to bring this up…so soon after we've begun to settle in New York, but…"

Katrina covered her mouth very softly with her hand. "They have another assignment for you, do they not?" she asked, reaching for his hand, and he nodded sadly. "Oh dear…where is it this time?"

He shook his head. "That I do not know, love," he admitted. "I was only told that it was pending, and we will find out after Christmas."

She slumped in her chair, disappointed. "I see." she fiddled with her napkin. "well, I suppose we will have to do as they bid, then." she looked down at her plate, and Ichabod knew she wasn't happy.

"I'll make this up to you some day, Katrina," he promised, and she nodded.

"I trust you, Ichabod," she replied, three words he'd waited his whole life to hear.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The following morning, Katrina took Young Masbath to the church, eager to personally introduce the child to Pastor Richards.

They sat in his small but cozy office, sipping on warm mugs of tea while details of choir life were explained in full.

Young Masbath was asked to sing a couple of verses to the tune of the piano, and his sweet, smooth voice broke the silence.

Katrina felt her eyes mist slightly as he completed his audition, and Pastor Richards nodded with approval.

"You are quite talented musically, lad," he complimented and the boy blushed crimson. "Welcome to the choir. I will fetch you a robe that you will wear on Sunday."

Young Masbath balked...he thought he was only to sing for the Christmas holiday. He turned to Katrina when the Pastor was out of sight, and voiced his surprise to her.

"I think it will do you a world of good to try something new," she explained at his distrust. "Mouse, you've a beautiful voice...there is no reason why you should not share it with others."

Young Masbath knew arguing with his mistress was futile, and kept his mouth shut.

He fingered the thick, woolly fabric of his choir robe once it was presented to him, and tried it on for size. How it scratched!

"Excellent," Pastor Richards spoke. "A perfect fit."

Young Masbath shed the garment eagerly, and upon signing a contract to be with the choir, followed Katrina back out into the mid December snow.

He said little as they gathered supplies from the market for the night's supper, and after visiting Ichabod for a moment on duty, went home.

It was natural for Katrina to worry when a heavy rain began to fall later in the evening, icy drops splattering against the tightly closed windows. She made certain to stoke the fire and prepare blankets and hot coffee for her husband, who would no doubt be miserable upon his return.

Young Masbath waited anxiously at the parlor window as lightening flashed and thunder crashed, hoping to catch a glimpse of his master approaching the house.

When he saw Ichabod at the end of the street he braced himself by the doorway, ready to open it the second he arrived. The wind howled viciously when he did open the door, and he nearly fell back from the force.

"Sir...are you all right?" Young Masbath questioned as Ichabod practically fell flat on the floor, drenched from head to toe with freezing water.

Young Masbath aided his shivering master into the parlor, where Katrina met them with heavy blankets.

"My poor darling..." she whispered and ordered him upstairs at once to get into dry clothes. Ichabod warned Katrina that his health had never been robust, that it did not take much for him to fall sick.

His shoulder still troubled him from the horseman's wound, something she kept an eye on regularly.

She heard him sneeze violently on his way up the creaky staircase and glanced at Young Masbath.

"Oh dear..." she whispered.

Ichabod returned to the kitchen once in dry, warm clothing, though his dark hair still dripped slightly. Katrina had boiled a hot beef stew with fresh vegetables for supper, along with her famous buttermilk biscuits.

"This will help with the chill," she told Ichabod, handing him a steaming bowl, which he eagerly accepted. "Be careful...it is still a bit hot."

Young Masbath ate eagerly once they said grace, his own appetite having improved a great deal the more settled he became.

"Our little mouse certainly impressed Pastor Stevens today," Katrina broke the silence caused by eating, and Ichabod glanced at his ward, who chewed slowly and thoughtfully on his biscuit. "You must see how adorable he looks in his robe."

Young Masbath scowled. "I look ridiculous, if I may provide my input," he mumbled and Ichabod chuckled warmly.

"Nonsense. Nothing could make my lad look such a way. You will have to try it on for me after supper."

Young Masbath agreed to do so, though reluctantly. All sour thoughts regarding church happenings disappeared at once with Katrina's cinnamon and sugar cookies. She tried her hand at baking different recipes, passed to her from church members, or from the book given to Ichabod by his mother long ago.

She had a knack for the culinary arts, and there wasn't a single dish her family did not enjoy.

"Did you spend time on your lessons today, Young Masbath?" Ichabod asked once in the parlor again, grateful to be wrapped in a fluffy blanket. He still felt so cold from the rain, wind and melting snow, wondering if he would ever feel properly warm again.

Instead of going to a school, Young Masbath learned his letters at home, and fine tuned his apprenticeship with his master. His companions he gained from the neighborhood, those whose parents Katrina befriended. Ichabod envied Katrina's ease with strangers, how she glowed in company and he shrunk back.

"Yes, sir," Young Masbath replied.

"We have been steadily reading through the book of Genesis," Katrina explained, for the Bible was an important book for any young lad. "We also worked on simple addition and subtraction. He is getting quite good."

Young Masbath blushed as his master released another sneeze, fumbling for a handkerchief. "Are you alright? I hope you are not catching cold!" Katrina spoke again as she remedied his lack of handkerchief quickly.

"I will be all right, my love," Ichabod replied, "I am still warming up." Young Masbath crawled onto his lap, a gesture that always startled the young constable, and smiled.

"I will help keep you warm, sir!" He insisted and Katrina giggled.

"Did you not promise you would try on your cloak for us?" She reminded, and the boy frowned. "Only for a moment, lad, then you may take it off."

"Go on, then," Ichabod encouraged and Young Masbath scurried up to his room on the second floor.

"Before the rain came, how was your day?" Katrina asked as she began the process of clearing dinner dishes from

"Quite uneventful," Ichabod replied, "Except I believe I have finally decided on Young Masbath's Christmas present. You and I have discussed what he would like most, and I wanted to contribute something that has crossed my mind from time to time."

Katrina stared at him with curiosity, nodding her head for him to continue.

"Adoption papers," Ichabod whispered, and Katrina's mouth fell open. "He has no family of his own, besides us, and I know how important stability is for anyone, a sense of belonging and purpose. What do you think?"

She immediately came over and gave him a kiss, just as Young Masbath came downstairs in his choir robe.

"Sir, Katrina, must you?" He asked and Ichabod gave a laugh at the lad's expression.

"My apologies…" Ichabod motioned for the child to approach him, and eyed Young Masbath, who was clearly uncomfortable.

"Does he not look dashing?" Katrina asked as she asked him to do a small spin, which Young Masbath did, though with a scowl all the time.

"SIr...you're grinning...I knew I looked silly!" Young Masbath groaned as he removed the cloak at once, and hung it on the clothes horse. Katrina nudged Ichabod's shoulder when she realized he was clearly fighting laughter, and he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, my lad...it looks just fine," He whispered and Young Masbath folded his arms. "Come, sit with me," he added and Young Masbath sighed, taking his place on his master's lap once again. Katrina managed curl at her husbands feet as she began to mend one of his torn socks, using his knees as a leaning post.

Every evening the little family curled together by the fire to read aloud from one of Ichabod's books. Tonight, it was a chapter from "Knights of the Round Table," one of Young Masbath's favorites.

"Sir...can you read the part where Sir Meligrance kidnaps Guinevere?"

"Mouse...I have read that to you every evening this week," Ichabod teased and Young Masbath shrugged innocently.

"It is my favorite part! You read well, sir," He commented,

"Enough of this formality," Ichabod scolded gently, and Young Masbath arched an eyebrow. "There is positively no need to call me 'sir'...I am simply Ichabod, or…"

"Papa?" Katrina suggested with a mischievous grin, and Young Masbath stared at her with surprise. Ichabod gave her a warning look and cleared his throat again, a nervous habit he'd picked up long ago.

"If you wish it," Ichabod spoke again, and Young Masbath wet his lips. He had thought of Ichabod as a father figure ever since he was taken as his ward. He felt more comfortable with constable Crane and Katrina than anyone else...they seemed to connect rather smoothly.

"Papa…" Young Masbath spoke the word cautiously.

"You know I would never want to take the place of your original father," Ichabod continued, and Young Masbath looked at him sadly.

"I know, si…" Young Masbath stopped himself and Katrina squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"We are a family, Mouse," Katrina

"But I am your apprentice…" Young Masbath craned his neck to look at Ichabod with wide brown eyes, and Ichabod ruffled his hair.

"The two of you are my family," He assured the boy. "Yes, you do assist me with my work, but I plan to care for you as though you were my own flesh and blood. Katrina feels the same way, do you not?" He turned to his wife who nodded eagerly.

"Of course, Mouse," she replied.

Young Masbath could hardly speak with emotion, and immediately embraced Ichabod in a tight hug, burying his face against his master's chest. Ichabod placed a hand on Young Masbath's shoulder, not quite sure what else to do, and gave it a gentle pat.

"There there, lad…" he took a deep breath that resulted in a yawn, after which he excused himself. "Goodness, I am tired," he admitted and Katrina smiled.

"You have had a long day," She agreed. "And you still feel chilled to me."

The thought of releasing himself from the cocoon of blanket and the warmth of Young Masbath was not at all appealing, but he knew he had to sleep or he would never make it to work in the morning.

"You are right, love," He replied and encouraged Young Masbath to hop down. "We shall save King Arthur for another evening," he added and Young Masbath nodded in agreement.

"It's all right...I can read it a little myself," He said and Katrina beamed...Young Masbath's education was improving such a great deal.

"Good night," Ichabod announced as he kissed each of them on the forehead, and Young Masbath wandered to the bottom of the stairs as Ichabod had gotten halfway up.

"Good night Papa," Young Masbath spoke aloud and Ichabod glanced over his shoulder, a small smile creeping across his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ichabod awoke the following morning with the worst head cold he'd suffered in nearly a year. He could barely breathe through his nose, and his throat felt as though it were on fire when he tried to swallow.

Katrina demanded he get back into bed at once when she heard him sneezing and coughing amidst attempting to dress for patrol, looking rather pitiful in her opinion.

The rain from the previous night continued the coat the city, and the idea of him getting drenched again in such a state was unfathomable.

"Hush," Katrina scolded when he tried to protest the idea of staying home...he hadn't taken a sick day in his life, and found the distraction of work helpful against his misery. "That is before you had a family to care for you, my love," Katrina added with a soft smile, and Ichabod was helpless against Katrina's words, especially when she discovered him to be feverish.

Young Masbath came to bid his master and mistress a "Good morning," before attending to his chores downstairs, and was startled to find Ichabod still in bed. "Is everything alright?" he asked with a frown as he heard Ichabod coughing roughly into a fist, and Katrina crossed the room to where the child stood.

"Papa has caught cold," she explained. "He will have to remain home until his health improves. Would you mind taking word to his superiors advising them of the situation, Mouse?"

Young Masbath nodded, not liking the sound of Ichabod's cough at all, it sounded deep and painful.

"Of course, ma'am...I will go straight away."

Katrina made certain Young Masbath was bundled up tight to protect his body from the dreadful weather, and handed him an umbrella to shield his head from the drops.

Young Masbath hated going to the constabulary, and was particularly frightened about going there alone. He'd only ever been there with Ichabod, and never had to speak to the superiors himself, with the exception of his vain attempt at protesting the new assignment.

He walked the familiar route to the building, the umbrella proving quite useless against the roar or the wind and the torrential downpours, but Katrina had certainly done herself justice in keeping him bundled tight. He entered the oppressive stone building, full of the familiar of screams and bangs, and made his way to the superior's chambers with the note clutched in his hand.

The high constable was as Young Masbath supposed, surprised to find him there without his master, and inquired of Constable Crane's whereabouts.

"Constable Crane is ill, sir," Young Masbath explained, his voice timid, and handed the note from Katrina. "He will be unable to attend patrol today."

The high constable read Katrina's neat script carefully, narrowing his eyes and peered closely at the boy before him.

"Tell your master I expect to see him on patrol tomorrow," he spoke at last and Young Masbath nodded nervously, hoping Ichabod's cold would be much improved by then. He hurried home as fast as he could, grateful that the rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time he reached the street.

He could hear Ichabod coughing again when he entered the house, and found Katrina boiling something at the fireplace.

"Thank you for going, Mouse...what did they say?"

"They approved of his staying home today, but wished for him to come back tomorrow," Young Masbath replied with a sigh as he shed his cloak.

"Goodness," Katrina breathed, as she poured a bubbly liquid into a mug. "I do wish Ichabod would resign from such a horrendous employer. He is quite ill and I doubt will be well enough to return tomorrow, especially in this weather." she set the cup on the table and Young Masbath peered into it.

"What is that?" He asked with curiosity, and Katrina smiled.

"It is a special tea I have concocted," She explained, "Yarrow flowers, Elder flowers, peppermint leaves, etc. It should help his congestion and his fever." She allowed Young Masbath to taste a small teaspoonful of the medicine, and he winced.

"That is strong," He whispered and Katrina giggled.

"Many medicines are strong, sadly," she admitted. "I've also fixed your breakfast, so you may eat while I take this to Papa. I think today we will begin to decorate for Christmas...as it is coming sooner than we think."

Young Masbath had not celebrated a true Christmas since the death of his mother years ago, for the town of Sleepy Hollow was remote and cheerless. The Van Tassel family held a grand party every season that he was always invited to, but he felt awkward among so many strangers.

"That sounds wonderful, Ma'am,," He agreed, and there was that brilliant smile again, full of sunshine that always lit up a room.

"There is no need for ma'am…did we not discuss this last night?" She asked teasingly, and Young Masbath blushed. "If Ichabod is to be Papa, then I would be honored to have you call me Mama," she suggested and Young Masbath felt emotion choking in his throat. "We are a family, there is no need for formalities here."

Young Masbath embraced Katrina around the waist...she smelled faintly of sunflowers, a perfume she adored that Ichabod had purchased for her recent birthday in mid-November.

"I do not deserve such kindness," he squeaked and Katrina placed a kiss on his head.

"Nonsense," She replied, releasing him for the moment, so she could get the cup from the table. "I must bring this to Papa, and then we will see about decorating, mmm? I do believe the box I have brought from home will suffice, though we could always stop into town if need be for more."

"Are we going to have a tree?" Young Masbath asked curiously, for he always loved the grand evergreens in the Van Tassel parlor when he did attend the parties.

"Of course!" Katrina laughed heartily. "What would Christmas be without one?"

Another rough bout of coughing startled them both from their thoughts, and she shook her head sadly. "I must get this upstairs quickly," She replied. "Eat your breakfast, and I will return soon."

Young Masbath did as he was told, his heart bursting with happiness and love. He never intended to feel this way again about anyone after the death of his parents, but Mr. and Mrs. Crane had truly embraced him as their own. He wondered if he would still follow Ichabod about on patrol in the future, and hoped the young Constable would still wish that it be so. Despite the doom and gloom of the constabulary building, Young Masbath enjoyed bringing the evil to justice.

Katrina found Ichabod curled up under the covers where she'd left him before making the tea, and he was shaking miserably from the cold. "Mouse is back safe from the constabulary," She whispered as Ichabod inquired of his well being, after accepting a sip of the tea. "They want you back tomorrow morning, but if you are still unwell, I am going to have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind."

Ichabod sneezed into a handkerchief he'd managed to grab from under his pillow, and closed his eyes at the pain it caused his chest and throat.

"I do not mean to be such a burden," He managed once she gave him a bit more of the tea, and she squeezed his hand, which felt so cold.

"Don't say such a thing," She replied. "You cannot help being ill."

She heard the soft sound of piano music coming from the parlor, and smiled to herself...Young Masbath dedicated himself to one hour each day of practice. She could faintly make out "Silent Night," and pressed a kiss on her husband's feverish forehead. "Please drink the rest of this, and I assure you, it will do a world of good," She encouraged, and Ichabod dreaded another mouthful of the bitter liquid.

"I do not think I have the strength…" he choked and she frowned.

"You must," She said, and he took a deep breath, allowing her to assist him with the tea.

"What are you and Jonathan going to do today?" He asked once he managed to swallow everything down, and bundled himself in the blankets.

"Prepare the house for Christmas," Katrina replied as she sat on the mattress beside him. "When you are feeling better, we will fetch the tree, but you will need to carry it as I am afraid it is too big for my small bones." She presented her arms to Ichabod who chuckled, though the motion made him cough again.

"I do not believe I've ever seen this house decorated for anything," He admitted, for he was too often cooped up in his laboratory upon completion of patrol since the owner of the place died not long after he moved in.

"Then you will awake to an amazing sight!" Katrina kissed him on the cheek. "Rest now...I will care for Jonathan, you need not worry about either of us."

Ichabod managed a weak smile despite his discomfort, and reached for her hand.

"I do not know what I would do without you," He said.

Katrina descended the staircase to find Young Masbath embraced in his music, his eyes closed as his fingers flew over the black and white keys. The boy was playing from memory, with the same talent as a professional musician.

She left him to his practice as she began to tidy up the house following breakfast, pouring the remainder of Ichabod's medical tea into a jug that would keep until his recovery. She set it by the windowsill and gazed out as a ray of sunshine began to peep just slightly through the dark gray clouds. When Young Masbath completed his piano practice, he assisted her with the daily chores, and then they went through the old box of holiday ornaments and decorations from the Sleepy Hollow mansion.

"I cannot believe Papa has never decorated for Christmas," Young Masbath admitted as they began to string holly around the parlor, starting with the mantle above the fireplace. The house remained steadily cleaner than Ichabod ever remembered, as a result of Katrina's daily scrubbing and dusting. She also insisted when the weather was fine, that the windows be opened, allowing the fresh air to seep through.

Within two months of her arrival, Katrina began to notice Ichabod's color changing, the usual paleness replaced with a much healthier glow. He smiled more frequently and spoke with more confidence, amazed that someone actually cared about what he had to say.

Katrina could listen to her husband's voice for hours on end, and adored it when he read to them in the evenings from his cascade of books in the cupboard.

"Mama, may I have some cocoa, please?" Young Masbath asked a few hours later as they had completed the bottom floor, the air smelling of evergreen from the tinsel. Katrina had gone up to check on Ichabod regularly, pleased to find him sleeping peacefully. She had administered more of her tea to him following a lunch of chicken soup and biscuits, which he had difficulty eating due to the uneasiness of his stomach.

If there was one way to win Young Masbath's heart, Katrina grew to learn, it was to have plenty of sweets available in the house. He adored cocoa more than anything else, and she provided him with a piece of the treat upon his request.

"I think we have done quite well today, Mouse, what do you think?" She asked as she fastened a piece of mistletoe onto the top of the doorframe. Young Masbath chewed on his cocoa and turned around, fascinated by the house's complete transformation.

"I think Papa will be very pleased," He agreed as he finished the treat. "Mama, I wanted to do my shopping for you and Papa with my allowance soon," He admitted as Ichabod had taken to paying him once a week for his assistance on patrol.

"There will be plenty of time for that, Mouse, I assure you," Katrina insisted. "Though you needn't buy anything for me, just having you here with us is gift enough." She pressed a kiss on his rosy cheek.

Young Masbath's companions came to call later in the afternoon, though due to Ichabod's illness, Katrina insisted he remain home to assist in the healing process. "He would worry too deeply," she told Young Masbath with a smile, and felt awful at the lad's clear disappointment. "I promise you may go out as soon as Papa is well again."

Young Masbath nodded in understanding, not wanting to cause Ichabod further worry and distrust...he had caused enough trouble for the constable in recent days.

"My best to Constable Crane, Jonathan," Thomas, his best friend, mentioned kindly and with a bow to Katrina, led Aaron and Simon down the alleyway.

"I'm sorry, Mouse," Katrina apologized as they went about the daily chores. She always enjoyed making a steaming beef stew for these cold nights, and it was a dish that pleased both men in the house.

"It's alright," Young Masbath insisted, though half heartedly. "Mama, I wish there was some way to convince Papa that my friends are quite indeed dignified in their own right. They go to school and do well there, they speak highly of their parents and siblings, they do attend the church every Sunday. What is wrong with a little adventure now and again? What are we lads to do?" He mopped the floor swiftly with his focus intent on seeing the sunshine sparkle off the stone.

"Dear lad...I know," Katrina sighed as she kneaded dough, her cheeks dusted with flour. "Ichabod is not used to companionship. He led a very lonely childhood from what I gather, and he has a distrust of strangers, especially where his family is concerned. He has been through much pain in his short time. Perhaps if you spoke of your concerns, he would heed your words."

Young Masbath hadn't thought about Ichabod's childhood, nor had he asked anything about it.

"Has he told you much about his childhood, Mama?" He asked and Katrina raised her head.

"Not very much..." she admitted. "Just that his mother passed tragically when he was seven years old, and he lived with a father who was both verbally and physically abusive. He left home as soon as he was old enough to work, and has not been in contact with his family since."

Young Masbath was filled with a newfound respect for Ichabod, and understood his demeanor.

"How terrible," he breathed. "Poor Papa. I did not know. I want him to be proud of me, to know he can trust me..."

Katrina stopped her work and came to give the boy a tight hug.

"He is proud of you, Mouse," she replied. "I can tell just how he looks at you."

Young Masbath decided to be the one to check on Ichabod for the next round, and found him reading.

"How are you feeling, Papa?" Young Masbath asked curiously and Ichabod looked at him with a small smile.

"A little better, thank you," he replied.

"Is there anything I can get for you? Mama is finishing up supper downstairs." He scuffed a shoe against the floor, and Ichabod shook his head.

"No...I am alright."

Young Masbath crawled up onto the bed and gave Ichabod a hug, much to his surprise. "Mouse, what on earth…" Ichabod asked as he patted the boy's shoulder awkwardly.

"I'm sorry if I've ever worried you," Young Masbath apologized. "I did not mean to cause you such difficulty."

Ichabod stared at Young Masbath before a bout of coughing overtook him, and he had to pull away to avoid contaminating the boy.

"There is no need to apologize, lad," Ichabod whispered as Young Masbath eased a cup of water to his lips that Katrina always kept by the bed in case he needed something to drink. "You've a good heart, that is all that matters to me." He swallowed past his sore throat and rubbed it tenderly, wincing a little.

"Are you in much pain, Papa?" Young Masbath asked, and Ichabod lay back against the pillows.

"It is merely a cold," Ichabod insisted through chattering teeth, "just the natural discomforts of it is all."

The three of them ate supper in the bedroom with Ichabod at Katrina's insistence, not wanting him to get too lonely. Young Masbath was anxious to show the his father the downstairs decorations, but Katrina denied him the opportunity.

"I feel it is safest for Papa to remain in bed as of now," She said as she replaced the prior heated brick at her husband's feet with a fresh one, when he announced he was cold. "Lad…it is time for bed."

Young Masbath frowned with disappointment, not wanting to leave either of his parents, but knew Ichabod needed as much peace and quiet as he could gather until his health improved.

"Yes, Mama," he agreed and after planting a kiss on Katrina's cheek, headed down the hallway towards his bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As Katrina feared and expected, Ichabod's health grew worse over the next couple of days, the minor sniffle moving quickly to his chest. He coughed so deeply that his entire body shook, and his fever rose steadily. She hired a physician without Ichabod's consent, knowing he would argue against the expense, and Dr. Bangs clucked his tongue at the sight of the younger man laying helpless under the covers.

" 'Tis the grippe, Mrs. Crane," he whispered as they stood in the hall, leaving Young Masbath in charge of Ichabod for the moment. "Quite a bit of that going around these parts. How is the lad coming along? He's not been showing symptoms yet, has he?"

Katrina made certain to keep a close eye on Young Masbath the second Ichabod started going downhill, but so far the boy seemed well enough...just tired and weary.

"He seems all right," Katrina replied, wincing at another bought of coughing from upstairs, and took a deep breath. "Should I sent him away?" She knew the grippe passed quickly from one to the next, and if there was any way to prevent Young Masbath from coming down sick, she would do it.

"It's too late for that now...he's been exposed," Dr. Bangs explained with sigh, "The less the illness spreads the better. Just keep him in doors until Mr. Crane shows signs of improvement, and I'd say at least a good week after...can't be too careful." He began to pack up his belongings and Katrina placed a few coins in his hand.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," she said.

"Nothin' to thank me for...it's my job," Dr. Bangs replied. "Do not let your husband out of bed until the fever breaks under any circumstances."

Katrina knew she would have to take a trip the constabulary herself to speak on Ichabod's behalf...Young Masbath had come home in tears the second morning of Ichabod's absence. That is when the physician's proof of illness had been demanded, and if it was not provided in a timely manner, Constable Crane would be relieved of his duties effective immediately.

"Mama?" Young Masbath came down the stairs, his dark eyes wide, and Katrina looked at him. "Papa is asking for you..."

Dr. Bangs bid his farewell at that very moment, and made Young Masbath promise to notify his family if he felt ill in the least.

"I will, sir," He replied, grateful he had not even a sniffle to complain over, and had not truly been sick for a couple of years.

Katrina went up the narrow staircase to the master bedroom, and found Ichabod tossing and turning under the blankets. She immediately reached for his arm and gripped onto it tightly, gently planting a kiss on his sweat-soaked forehead.

"Katrina..." Ichabod whispered weakly and she sat down in the chair Young Masbath had carried in, keeping her hand attached to his.

"I am here my love...you needn't worry," She soothed and Ichabod's eyes fluttered open.

Young Masbath attempted to focus on his chores, which included cleaning and chopping firewood if needed, but he couldn't help peering at the KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE left on his master's chair from a few nights before...he'd never gotten around to reading it.

He set the broom against the wall and curled onto Ichabod's chair, fingering the well-worn book in his hands. Simply sitting in Ichabod's chair brought a sense of comfort, and he tried to imagine what they would do together while Katrina prepared dinner. Sometimes Ichabod went through his notes of previous investigations, explaining things as well as he could, or they would play rounds of checkers that would last all night. Young Masbath had gotten to be a champion at the game, and on occasion, allowed his master to win.

"Mouse...could you fetch a couple of rags, and another basin of water? The compress isn't doing enough to bring the fever down, I'm afraid I'm going to have to bathe him entirely..."

Young Masbath nodded and scurried out of the room, tears brimming the corners of his eyes as he fetched one of the spare basins, filling it with fresh, cool water from the pump. He struggled a little under it's weight, but managed to get the water upstairs without spilling a drop. Ichabod's coughing frightened him when he entered the sick room, and Katrina supported him as best as she could.

"Is he going to be all right?" Young Masbath asked as he set the basin by Katrina's feet, and began to dampen the rags with the liquid.

Katrina wanted to tell the child that everything would be all right in the end, but she did not know anymore than he did. The last person she'd seen so ill was her mother, who had died two years prior from a similar fever.

She continued to provide Ichabod with her herbal remedies, though he had difficulty keeping anything down.

"We can only hope he will, Mouse," she replied, and Young Masbath scuffed his shoe against the floor.

"Where does that leave me with the choir this Sunday?" He asked suddenly remembering, and Katrina looked horrified. She'd made such a big deal about the whole thing and hadn't even given it a second thought since Ichabod got sick.

"Perhaps you can still perform for Christmas," She spoke after pondering the issue for a few moments. "It is still two weeks away. I will send a note to Pastor Richards first thing tomorrow to explain, after I stop by Papa's work." She winced at the idea of facing the constabularies, but had no choice in the matter.

"Yes Ma'am..." he murmered, hoping he would get out of it entirely, but did not want to argue.

That evening Young Masbath ate supper alone at the kitchen table, upon making sure Katrina had something as well...she would have forgotten to eat on purpose if he hadn't brought up the issue.

He had another nightmare about the old woman in the woods, the sound of her screams and wails deafening, mixed with rocks cracking, cracking...

Young Masbath jolted awake, sweat pouring down his cheeks, and realized he could still hear the stones...

"Wait..."

He winced at the crack, crack, crack noise, the sound of stone on glass, and realized stones were being tossed at his window.

"Thomas..."

Young Masbath struggled out from his tangle of blankets to approach the window and opened it, shivering as the winter chill struck his skin. He could see his friend standing on the cobblestone street, illuminated by the moonlight.

"What are you doing?" Young Masbath called in a loud whisper, and Thomas waved with a smile on his face, shoving his pants into his trouser pockets.

"Are you able to come out?" He asked, and Young Masbath shook his head, determined not to cause Ichabod any further worry than he already had. It wouldn't be fair to sneak out of the house when his master was too ill to notice.

"I'm sorry...I can't," He explained. "I promised I wouldn't sneak out late anymore...I've gotten into too much trouble already."

Thomas looked surprised by Young Masbath's defiance...usually the younger boy was more than ready for a late adventure through the city.

"We miss you..." Thomas admitted.

"I miss you as well," Young Masbath replied. "My master is quite sick, though, and I need to be here in case he needs me."

"The grippe?" Thomas inquired and Young Masbath blinked in surprise.

"Yes...how did you know?"

"Half the city is down with it...my family thank Jesus has been spared so far..."

Young Masbath nodded in understanding. "I'll come when I can," he promised. "Tell the others I'm sorry."

Thomas saluted Young Masbath before dashing away, and he shut the window, grateful to be out of the cold air.

He sat down on the edge of the bed trembling, and rubbed his hands over his face.

He had told Ichabod about the first dream, much more vivid than this, though the smell of the woods still filled his nose as though he had been physically transported there.

"Impossible," He muttered as he cawled back under the covers, gazing up at the dark ceiling and sighed heavily.

Katrina put Young Masbath in charge of Ichabod the following morning as she went to run her errands, making certains he had the physician's note tucked safely into her pocket.

"Do not be afraid, Mouse," Katrina insisted as Young Masbath stood watching her prepare to leave. "He is quiet now, the cough has eased since the dose of Ipecac. It is the only thing I could use last night to clear his lungs, and it is on the night table if needed."

Young Masbath cringed at the thought of his poor master having to swallow such a horrid medicine, for he had taken it years ago when he suffered the croup.

"You will do just fine, Mouse, I promise," Katrina insisted, squeezing the clearly terrified boy's hand as she made her way out the door.

Katrina knew the way to the Constabulary by heart, as she had gone with Ichabod a number of times while on duty. She always brought him something to eat rather often, wanting to make sure he kept up his strength.

She did not like the high constable one bit, though she was not afraid of him.

Katrina hitched her skirts and walked up the stone steps of the imposing building, her breath coming out in white puffs from the ice cold.

The familiar bangs and screams filled her ears as she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

"May I help you?"

The High Constable's voice was cold and agitated as Katrina met with him at last, after finding her way through the maze of corridors and strange looking rooms.

"I am here to advise that Constable Crane will not be reporting this morning, nor any other until he is fully recovered," She spoke bravely as the white-haired man gave her a hard look.

"And you are?" He questioned and she held her head high.

"His wife...Katrina Crane," She explained and handed him the piece of parchment from Dr. Bangs.

The High Constable adjusted his spectacles and read Dr. Bang's untidy scrawl, murmering to himself as he did so. "I see..." He set the note down and retrieved another document, stepping down from his desk and moving towards her. Katrina stepped backwards for a moment, regretting having sent poor Young Masbath on his own the day before.

"When Constable Crane recovers, you may give him this," He explained and handed Katrina another piece of parchment, much larger than the one she'd presented. "It is the official details o the new assignment I mentioned to him earlier, they have come in and I wish him to take his leave immediately after Christmas."

Katrina accepted the paper gingerly and peered at the contents carefully: _**The Mayor of Blair Township requests your assistance...**_

"Seven children have been kidnapped and murdered there within the past couple of weeks," the High Constable explained. "There is a man accused behind bars, but he keeps insisting an old woman told him to do it...there is a legend there about a witch who has control over the forest. I thought your husband would be a perfect fit for this investigation, given his past...experiences."

"You say that in jest," Katrina spoke. "What happened in Sleepy Hollow was quite true, I saw everything for myself. Are you calling me a liar as well? Or my son?" The word 'son' slipped off of her tongue with such ease in description of Young Masbath, that it was startling.

"I am not saying anything, good woman, and I would ask that you not use that tone with me," the High Constable snarled and Katrina balled her hands into fists.

"I find it hard to respect someone who treats my husband in such a fashion," Katrina replied. "Ichabod gave a great deal of assistance to Sleepy Hollow, whether you believe it or not. I am grateful for all he has done. Any town that has Constable Crane's knowledge in their arsenal is a lucky one, I assure you.

With that she turned on her heel and left the building, hot tears filling her eyes with anger. More than once she thought about resigning for her husband, but he loved the job so much that it would have broken his heart.

Katrina had a long chat with Pastor Richards at the church upon arrival, and he was more than understanding about the situation. The choir boys were dropping one by one with the grippe, two had passed into the next life already.

"Your husband will be in my prayers, you can be certain," He said as Katrina crossed herself at the mention of the children's untimely deaths. She feared for Young Masbath's health day in and day out, though as long as she had known the boy, it took quite a bit to knock him flat.

"Thank you very much," She replied.

Along the journey home, Katrina was met with a woman selling kittens on the sidewalk, smiling despite the fact that she looked half frozen.

"Might I have a look?" Katrina asked curiously and she peered into the heavily insulated basket. Nestled inside were a mixture of black, white, and orange striped tabby cats, and the lady explained they had been born six weeks earlier.

"We would keep them but it is simply too much," She said.

Katrina knew Young Masbath would adore a pet of his own to keep him company, and much to the stranger's delight, purchased a pure black kitten with a bell around its neck. "He will have a good home," She insisted and the woman nodded with approval.

"Thank you, my dear...and Merry Christmas," She said.

Katrina carried the tiny animal home at once, her heart melting at the small yellow eyes peering directly into hers the entire way.

"You will be quite safe with us," She insisted. "Perhaps we may take you along to Maryland. It will make the trip less painful, I think..."

She opened the front door with one hand and was pleased to hear that peace and quiet still reigned.

She carried the kitten up the narrow staircase to the sick room, and found Young Masbath sitting by the bed, where he had fallen asleep in his chair.

Ichabod's chest continued to move up and down much to her relief, though he occasionally stirred and made a restless noise.

"Mouse?"

Katrina gave the boy's shoulder a gentle shake and Young Masbath blinked his eyes open, looking weary.

"I'm sorry...I must've fallen asleep," He admitted sheepishly. He noticed the kitten and his eyes lit up at once. "A kitten!" he whispered and she led him into the hallway so they would not disturb Ichabod. "Where did you find him?" He allowed Katrina to set the animal into his arms and giggled softly when it licked the tip of his nose.

"I thought it would make an early Christmas present for you," Katrina replied. "A woman was selling kittens on the way home, and I could not resist. I do believe you had a cat once before, did you not?"

Young Masbath nodded...his mother had owned a cat, who had lived to a ripe old age before passing.

"What did Papa's employer say when you told them about his illness?" He asked after thanking her many times for the gift, and they went down to prepare a cup of ginger tea.

"They accepted Dr. Bangs' note," Katrina replied, "But they want us to leave for Maryland after Christmas..."

Young Masbath closed his eyes for a moment, wishing the idea of a new assignment had been all part of a dream.

"Do you know much about it?" He asked after he set down a small container of milk for Whiskers, the name he had given the cat, onto the floor.

Katrina hated to mention the details of what sounded like such a horrific case to the thirteen year old, but Young Masbath had been through quite a bit already with the Headless Horseman in Sleepy Hollow. His own father had been murdered by the Hessian.

"Seven children were killed recently," Katrina replied and Young Masbath's face paled. "There is a man they have arrested, but he keeps insisting he didn't do it...an old woman did..."

An old woman...

Young Masbath felt suddenly faint and had to lean against the wall for a moment before he passed out.

"Mouse...are you all right?" Katrina was at his side in a moment, and immediately felt his forehead for any sign of fever.

"Did you say...an old woman?" He choked and she nodded, wide-eyed.

"Yes...what on earth is the matter?" Katrina squeezed Young Masbath's arm. "Please, sit down, talk to me."

Young Masbath sat at once with a soft 'thud', and took a deep breath. "The nightmares I've been having..." he began slowly. "An old woman in the woods...accused of witchcraft...left there to die..."

Katrina's eyes widened even further if possible. "What?" She asked.

"They started not long after we moved here," He admitted. "I don't know why...I just know I've had them."

Katrina sat down beside the child and prepared to answer when she heard a thump from upstairs.

"Papa..."

Young Masbath was off like a shot faster than she, and found Ichabod laying on the hallway floor.

"Ichabod!" Katrina got down on her knees beside her husband's unconscious form, and flipped him over, gently tapping his fever flushed cheek. "Ichabod, love, please wake up..."

Ichabod groaned after a few seconds and peered into her eyes. "Where am I?" He asked and she eased him carefully into a sitting position.

"You're safe at home love," She insisted. "What were you doing in the hallway?"

"Needed to use...privy, but I s'ppose I fainted..."

Katrina glanced at Young Masbath who had tears falling down his face. "I'm so sorry my dear...I was about to bring you some tea. Let us get up back into bed, after we change your linens. Mouse, will you finish setting up dowstairs? We will speak later, I promise..."

Later...

Young Masbath had heard that before.

"I will, Mama," He replied and hurried quickly down the steps.

.


End file.
